


I Think You're Cute When You Are Dreaming

by fairdeath



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sleeptalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 18:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairdeath/pseuds/fairdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rei talks in his sleep. It used to be mumbling equations, but after joining the swim club, these equations soon turned to one-sided conversations. Recently, he had also begun sleep calling, and on this night, he happened to call Makoto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think You're Cute When You Are Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Goodnight Moon from Heyhihello. Originally a fill for the kink meme.

It wasn’t unusual – the sleep talking. Since he was young, in times of stress or over exhaustion he would sometimes wake to the sound of his voice fading, murmurs of his worries or math equations in the background of a sleep-hazed mind.   
  
What was unusual; however, was when he started sleep  _calling_. Waking up to a single message from his track-team peer that read nothing short of threatening and his call history littered with communications he’d apparently made, he began to sleep with his phone turned off.   
  
Swimming was much more exhausting than he had previously thought it ever could be. His deltoids were in a constant blaze and his hands felt as though they were constantly cutting though water. Topped with the stress of upcoming exams, nothing seemed more beautiful than to just  _rest_.  
  
With strides that shrunk in length and toes that skimmed hardwood floors, a small yawn echoed through the empty home. Sluggish fingers that ran through silken hair soon found their way to a bedroom door handle to sit for a moment. Fingers, draped over the silver handle, lingered as heavy limbs attempted a graceful last few steps before reaching the bed that lay before him. One, two, three fingers slipped from their embrace on cool steel, the boy only noticing the absence below his fingers as fatigued limbs were embraced by soft sheets and bathed in the moon’s evening glow. Once the weight of his phone and glasses were lifted from him and placed securely on the bookcase beside the entirely too comfortable bed, a breathy sigh of content escaped from the boy as he let himself be dragged into unconsciousness. 

 

* * *

  
  
If Makoto had been asked four hours prior for his evening plans, the words that would have left him would have included “study,” and “math.” Unfortunately, those plans were soon lost behind the Siren-song of unperfected video games. Green eyes, framed with glasses slowly slipping down the bridge of his thin nose, remained focused on a small television screen, a blur of blood splatters and armour flittering across his vision as thin lips remained in a tight line, focused. The tall teen who once sat cross-legged, had evolved and shifted as his game progress did, leaving one leg fallen and foot gracing the ground, a hard right elbow resting on sinking mattress foam, supporting an incredibly toned torso, and hair -- deemed much too long by the kind natured boy -- to fall across the smooth skin of his face, slightly itching cheek bones.   
  
An extravagant yawn broke an intense string of concentration, and the boy decided that it was an unarguable sign to sign off go to bed. Setting down the controller and freeing a numb foot from under the hard muscle of a sculpted thigh, a slightly cramped right hand tapped on his phone, lighting up the screen as so he could check on the time. Grunting lightly when he stood, raising long arms above slumped shoulders, his large hand held a feather-light grip on the phone between his nimble fingers. As arms fell limp against his side, tired toes (he would later admit that the foot that supported his thigh for upwards of two hours was well beyond asleep and made the two step walk incredibly uncomfortable) pulled him across the room and in front of the television, his free hand in search of the  _off_  button on the screen.   
  
The feeling of the phone vibrating in his hand, feather-light grip loosening, Makoto flinched with surprise, thumb applying more pressure to the phone. Rotating the device and lifting it slightly as to bring the words into focus behind thick-rimmed frames, with a smile he noted that Rei was calling him. Soon afterwards, a wave confusion followed. It was unlike Rei to call so late, let alone whatsoever; his concerns were normally voiced face to face, slipped into larger conversations to keep them in the shadows even the smallest amount.   
  
Accepting the call and raising the device to his right ear, he mustered a small “Hello?” before realizing how his voice had become hazed with his own fatigue. Slowly lying on his bed, and head falling to a pillow in need of replacing, Rei’s voice returned sleepily.  
  
“Makoto,” he sounded, sighing lightly. Upon waiting for an extension and receiving none, the sandy-haired boy prompted the smaller of the two.   
  
“Good evening, Rei!” He mustered as much energy as he could while fiddling with the covers below him, “What’s wrong? You’re not usually one to call so late.” The tall boy commented, concern lacing his words just tight enough for it to be felt.  
  
The otherwise silent call was filled with a small sigh after a minuscule moment, followed by an unexpected reply. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” Green eyes widened slightly and fingers holding threads ceased movement as confusion set in. “You have a really soothing voice, is all,” the voice slowly continued. Thread began to wrap itself against tanned fingers, a blush slowly making its way upwards, warming Makoto’s chest and ears as a bashful smile worked its way over his face.   
  
“Th-thank you, Rei. I’ve never-,”  
  
“Really, your voice is just so beautiful,” as Rei’s lips let the syllables dance through the air Makoto noticed that the intellect’s usually quick paced words were noticeably higher in pitch, as well as slower to form. Why was that? Usually Nagisa spoke more slowly when he was talking in his sleep. Was Rei asleep? He certainly didn’t seem like the sleep talking type.  
  
Unheard to the gears in Makoto’s mind, Rei continued, only drawn back to the conversation a particularly offended grunt from the teenager on the other end. “Nagisa, would you please stop? I certainly do not want to shoot mechanical ducks in order to win a less than average plush!”  
  
Oh, he was  _definitely_  asleep.  
  
And the fact that the unconscious mind of Rei had thought of him was definitely  _not_  the most adorable and heart-warming thing ever! (It totally was.)  
  
Makoto was known as the responsible, motherly one in the small circle of friends. He’d accepted that role; it fit him well. However, it wasn’t every day you got to speak to Rei’s unconscious mind. The boy with big green eyes found it slightly too hard to leave the conversation he’d been lassoed into (even if it was mostly one-sided). Would be it so horrible of him to keep the sleeping boy to himself a little longer?  
  
“Hey, Rei,” Mako prodded, voice lower than before. Safer to stick to less specific questions first off, careful not to seem too pushy, even if the Makoto that Rei was seeing was an apparition of his imagination. “Why do you swim?” Of course, the first reason would be because of Haru – Rei had said that Haru’s stroke had been so impeccably beautiful, and surely it was hopes of imitation, Makoto assumed this.   
  
“Haruka is beautiful when he swims, and I wished to be as beautiful as him while swimming,” an obvious answer came, as had been expected, though a continuation had not. “I swim now because you’re all beautiful when you swim,” the blush from prior compliments started to rise again, a bashful smile, “you’re all tapered to your strokes in the most specific of ways, you all know yourselves so well in your strokes, so certain with every movement in your unconscious minds.” Makoto had never found it easy to accept compliments, and so a small, appreciative laugh fell from lips that curled in a smile.   
  
“And your bodies are beautiful, too,” the nonchalance that coated his words took him by surprise; it wasn’t unusual for Rei to say their strokes were beautiful, but it was unusual for him to say they were beautiful. It was this that left Makoto at a loss for words, nothing more than a slightly uneven “How so?” could leave him.   
  
“No, Nagisa, I do not want to share cotton candy with you!” Mumbled groans scampered through the air, followed by an almost in audible, “just this once.” Assuming the boy with purple eyes had moved on, Makoto mentally had as well, prepared to provoke more statements from the boy all the while stiffing laughter.   
  
“You’re just so tall,” an uncharacteristically casual tone fell from Rei’s lips, “and your Latissimus Dorsi muscles are so well sculpted,” was that a grunt of approval or one of appreciation? Either way, he’d pretend to know exactly where his Latittude morphis muscles were. Did Rei say that? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t know if he cared enough to try to remember or ask – it was late.   
  
“A-and Nagisa?” Makoto had pressed, not really wanting to change the focus from Rei’s affection on himself to Nagisa, but genuinely curious.   
A soft reply of light snores returned his query.  
  


 

* * *

 

  
Falling asleep when he knew he would be woken up in the middle of a REM cycle was a terrible idea. He knew it would be, and kicking himself all day had changed how fatigued he felt had not helped in the slightest.  
  
Apologizing profusely to Makoto for his poor efforts in practice, Rei noticed how the captain seemed to shift uncomfortably as he spoke.   
“It-it’s fine, Rei,” he had said, right hand resting on the nape of his neck, fingers grasping harder than necessary into his own flesh. As the brunet directed his head in the direction of his hand, resting his neck in his slightly cupped palm, Rei watched as a small droplet of water fall from his still _dripping_  locks, cascade a path down his left sternocleidomastoid and stick slightly between his clavicles. “We all have days like that, it’s fine,” he had been reassured, “Really.” It wasn’t until Makoto finished with his signature head-tilted smile that the blue haired boy dropped the topic, leaving Makoto to search of returning to his normal routine.   
  
Despite knowing he was having an off day, Rei attempted to make up what he lacked in  _quality_  with  _quantity_. As the sun started disappearing below the shade of the city surroundings, Rei did so from the water, much to his body’s thanks. Upon leaving the school grounds, his right fingers interlocked with the fabric straps on his bag while his left retrieved his phone. Sometime during his extra laps, the distant sound of his familiar ringtone had sounded.   
  
 _3 Missed Calls_  
  
Tapping into his Call Log, he noted that he had missed two calls from his mother, and one from Nagisa (which had been followed by a text message summary of the reasons for his calling, full of exclamation marks and too many penguin emojis). His feet stopped their steady pacing, his breathing ceased to repeat itself and the fingers connected to his bag went slack.   
  
 _12:03am – Makoto Tachibana – 23 minutes 38 seconds._  
  
 _Oh no._

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing to say other than i wish i had a beta. Hope you enjoyed, though!


End file.
